Scary Azeri

Wednesday, 26 October 2016

As Halloween is around the corner and some of us have not just one but two parties to go to, I
thought it was perfect timing to share a fascinating story from my mother.

Speaking of Halloween. Last year I loved my costume. I am not, to be honest, a big fan of fancy dress
parties, and for years chose to ignore Halloween costumes altogether.
However, last year, since everybody else was dressing up; and I was told there were
prizes! for the best costume, I borrowed these Pirates of the Caribbean style costumes for
me and husband. I have to
tell you, I was converted ever since. I thought I looked great in my
costume, in this sort of hot and cool
way, which is not that easily achieved, you know? I even drew a fake scull and bones tattoo on
my shoulder and even popped over to neighbours house to take a picture with her parrot. I will even share this photo with you here, which
I had never done before. Hell, why not. I
loved that look on me.

And, I won! At both parties we went to!

So, this year I took things more seriously, having two
parties to go to again, and ordered my outfit online, from the USA.

OK, I am not even going to attempt to claim to be completely innocent in my choice, having been misled by the inaccurate photo
on the partycity.com website. I knew what I was ordering. But, in reality…I look ridiculous. Grotesque.
I honestly do. And the first confirmation came from my Phillipina maid, who saw
me in the dress and exclaimed 'Oh, wow, Ma’am, you are too sexy!'

That was nota good sign.

The boobs are enormous, and not in a good way, but in a way
male comedians or clowns look when they dress up as women. They come out from behind my armpits somehow, in the proudly
fake way, and sit in the middle of my chest like some ripe watermelons. The skirt
is so short that I cannot possibly bend down, not even a tiny little bit. And
there are suspenders! With Police badges attached. And fishnet stockings. Oh, and a tiny leather tie to
complete the look.

'So, basically', Husband said, looking at me prancing around the
room in my costume, 'you middle aged women grasp at any opportunity to look like
hookers. It is not really Halloween style, is it?'

No, I admitted, it really
isn’t.

And no, before you ask-no photos of me wearing this year's costume are going to appear on this blog.

Now, back to the planned story.

My mother got invited to a girlie party. An older friend and
her girlfriends, all in their late seventies or very early eighties were
sitting around the table eating yummy foods and drinking merry drinks. As you
do when you are in your late seventies.

As they finished the starters and the main course and were
just about to start on all the cakes and tea, one of the ladies exclaimed…( Now, let's just give her some fake name here... Elmira! There, that will do. ) So, she exclaimed: Elmira! What’s wrong with you???

Ladies started jumping up and down, calling ambulance and
generally freaking out.

And this is when my mother, who, for some inexplicable
reason has the ability to stay calm in bizarre situations when everyone else
panics, remembered a trick she read about on Facebook.( I mean we are talking about the lady who once
had to cut the body of her neighbour off the rope he had hanged himself on)

'The article said to prick her ear lopes too', she said, 'but I
only got to her eighth finger when she suddenly sat up and asked what the hell
I was doing'.

Now, whether you believe in this bizarre urban myth method, or think
it was totally stupid, and the lady came round simply because of the pain
inflicted; or due to some bizarre coincidence, really has no significant importance for
this story. What I thought was so cool was the ending.

Because, as they waited for the ambulance, everyone calmed down,
made sure the sick girl was comfortable on the sofa, and returned to the table
to resume their party. After all, those cakes could not be wasted.

Now, this is how older generation party, my friends. Not
sure we can ever beat that, with our ridiculous slutty costumes this Halloween.

Thursday, 13 October 2016

I have noticed a few times from occasional passive
aggressive comments some readers left on Scary Azeri Facebook page that they
were under the impression I got paid for this blogging thing. That, in reality
of course is, very sadly, not true.Nobody pays me and nobody wants to sell me any ads. Nothing of the sort
really happens, it is just something I do.Like other people who, you know, maybe enjoy nailing their bits to the dining table. For fun.

But, in all fairness, there are some random different perks
that do occasionally happen. For instance, a few years ago I got offered some
freelance work, wrote a couple of articles for Oryx (Qatar Airways

in-flight
magazine), got invited to contribute to some online stuff.. and got interviewed
by Global Voices Online. All great fun. And since I moved to Doha, I
occasionally get emails inviting me to media
only events and launches. I sort of missed a few of them throughout the
year due to…well, laziness on my part. Also, frankly, I was thinking it must
have been a mistake or a spam. “Exclusive media only” events. I mean, I am not
a media person, am I?

I had an image of cool, young trendy media people hanging
out at these parties, looking glamorous and gorgeous, all knowing each other, glancing
at me and thinking who the hell is that?
Is she lost? Gatecrashing? Until one of the organisers would approach me with
an official list, check, sternly, what my name was, and who I worked for, and then
ask me to leave, immediately.

But one of the things I truly love about Doha is that living
here, I can do things I would not have done back home (homes? Both countries)
Like attend a fencing championship, or a world cup tennis match, or…well, a media
only event. So when I saw another email in my scary azeri inbox, I read it out
to Husband. ‘Hey, check this out...' I said.‘Exclusive! Media! Invitation!’

It was to the Oyster Bar at St. Regis, which was introduced
in the invite as the finest address in Qatar,
on the beach, with Cuban live musicand hand-crafted beverages.

Is it free? Husband asked suspiciously.I decided it probably was.I had to send my name and my 'plus one' to
confirm our acceptance.

Come on, I said. Lets go, check it out.

It took us forever to find the place. St. Regis, ‘the finest
address in Qatar', is full of suspicious corridors and winding labyrinths that
were designed to confuse the inexperienced media persons like myself. As we
approached the Oyster Bay, a lady with an official list was waiting for me.
Just like I imagined she would. I had a momentary urge to ask for the bathroom
and quickly disappear. But I had my high heels and ripped jeans on, and a
bright lipstick and I was (really, honestly!) invited.I have to say, I was impressed. I suspect
the’d never heard what Scary Azeri was, but as soon as I mentioned it, her face
lit up with this most excited, most flattering smile, as if I was (almost
single) Brad Pitt asking her out on a date. Oh, wow, she said, we had sent you
a few invitations in the past, but have not had the pleasure of meeting you
yet!

Blimey, I thought. I am a celebrity!!!

A security guard slapped a green paper bracelet on my wrist,
which immediately made me feel all happy and warm inside: Any of us who had
been to anywhere knows what such a
paper bracelet means. It means, you
are in. And you are in somewhere with free food and drinks.

Please, enjoy yourselves! The friendly lady said, ushering
us to the beach. Everything is on us!

Husband was clearly impressed. Suddenly, all the times I
spent at the computer, all the Twitter and Facebook ‘crap’ he had endlessly
complained about made some sense.

He of course, could not resist to wind me up a little: Have
you not checked in yet?

And so we did enjoy it. The music by ‘Gerardo Contino y LosHabaneros’ was chilled in the way only Latin music can be, the drinks
and canapés were being served non-stop, and the view of the bay was stunning. The band leader told us that they were invited to perform at the White House but chose to be in Doha instead. True? Who knows, but they were good.

As for trendy and beautiful people…Well, it was pretty dark,
and my attention was entirely focused on a couple of girls in such ridiculous outfits that I could hardly notice anyone else. Posing for endless
photos in various, but equally hilarious poses, they were my personal highlight
of the evening.

I did not really network or meet anyone, or see anyone I recognized but it was definitely a fun night out. I must make more effort, I thought, to attend these sort of events, when invited. Or to at least, check my inbox more often to even see them in time, in the first place. And it was great fun to keep reminding husband that he could be a 'plus one' for a change.

Thursday, 22 September 2016

We have just come back from another holiday. I feel a bit awkward to even say it, because we only just had the summer away, and
suddenly going off again on another break, but the truth, in more detail is as follows:

One drunken night, we agreed with compound
friends that we should go together and once committed, we stuck to the promise,
which was a great way to actually go, and not just plan as we usually do, and
cancel later on, due to money issues or pure laziness. If you never materialise
your travel to exotic destinations plans, I recommend this method; the same way
as exercising or dieting with someone else. Get drunk, say cool, this sounds awesome! and
then book tickets.

We had second Eid here, in Doha, and it was still
awfully hot, so it was a great time to escape- one more time.

Always thought to make effort and go to one of
those interesting counties that are nearer while we live in Qatar; and we
have been here for five years and still have not done it.

Anyway, that’s how we ended up finally visiting Sri-Lanka.

The very first question pretty much everyone asks me after
this trip is: Oh, wasn’t it amazing? Was
it, like, THE most beautiful place you have ever seen?

Well, parts of it definitely were very beautiful. And I really liked it. And, I had a fantastic time.

Was it the most
beautiful place I have ever visited? Well….no, it wasn't.

I have only one explanation in my head, why to me, it was
not the most beautiful place. The
reason is very simple. Sri Lanka, despite its ocean views, is very much
a proper third world country.

So? You might ask. I can feel you all bristle at this. You
are ready to tell me off for being snobbish or thinking I was somehow superior
to normal people. But hey, before you
judge, just remember there is one little, but important detail here; the detail
that shapes my humble opinion, and gives me a certain right to it, like a black
person allowed to make racist jokes. What you mustn’t forget is that, as
opposed to Husband, or our Irish co-travelling friends, who all grew up in the Western
world, I actually come from a third
world country.

Dirt and poverty are not exotic
to me; they are just dirty and poor.

If you grew up in a place where, walking into an elevator
you had to pinch your nose and stand at the very edge to avoid stepping into
urine puddles; if you felt like throwing up every time you got on a crowded bus
because fellow passengers reeked as if they had never even seen a shower in
their lives…If you had spent years suffering from awful stomach pains only to
find out later in life you had been infected with Helicobacter Pylori…Ah, wait.
Sorry. You might not know what that is. I shall tell you. That is an infection
that is quite common in third world countries; and you get it mainly from
getting exposed to water or food contaminated with feces. You are welcome.

Anyway, you get the picture. If you had spent years as a child growing up in a developing country, you might be a little affected by that for the rest of your life, in a way that makes it a little difficult to see the inner beauty of the third world.

But, forget all that. The villa where we stayed was in the whole galaxy far, far away, literally and figuratively, from all the third-worldliness, being a beautifully designed place with stunning ocean views.

And that ocean…It took me a little while to get used to the noise. The rest of our company all thought it was funny that I did not find the ocean noise relaxing. But come on!

You see, that ocean...It is not like any other seaside I have been to- and I know what I am saying, I have actually seen a lot of sea in my life, been quite fortunate that way. I had heard and seen waves before but not like these. You know how you hear warnings that the sea can be deceptive, that it might look really calm and inviting but can actually kill you? Well, not the Indian ocean. It does not pretend, or try to appear calm and inviting. It is proudly, in your face, menacing. Yes, it says, I can kill you in a second if I decide to. And it is absolutely stunning, in a bewitching, threatening, mysterious kind of way. I could sit there for hours just looking at those waves crashing against the rocks, absolutely mesmerised, in awe. It is amazing, it is beautiful, it is just impossible to forget. But relaxing? Never.

So, if you asked me now, not whether Sri Lanka was the most beautiful place I have even been to, but what was the most beautiful memory I have taken away from there, I would say the ocean. Even right now, a week later, if I shut my eyes I can see those waves; and I would go back again, just to see and hear them. That ocean, without a doubt, is the most amazing thing about Sri Lanka. And the best part was that it was just everywhere. Wherever we went, however long we drove, it was always nearby. Remember how insignificant and fragile and perishable you are, it said. Remember that and enjoy every moment of your life. And try and visit somewhere with an ocean.

Wednesday, 7 September 2016

'Ma’am', my maid said this morning, showing me her mobile phone. 'Look, my auntie. She had a heart
attack'. She showed me a photo of an older woman in a hospital bed. I said I was
sorry to hear about it. 'Ma’am', she added…'My auntie, she is a lesbian'. That
information was not really relevant, but I nodded respectfully. 'Ma’am', she
added, 'Three of my aunties are lesbians'.

'Well', I said, 'that’s
really quite a lot of lesbians for one family!'

'A lot of lesbians in
Philippines, ma’am!' she replied.

And that is my random fact of today for you.

I know, I know. I have been incredibly lazy.I was planning to write about summer trips,
and then a few more things…and I was planning to write about Baku…Just like in
that song, if you know it?

I was gonna clean my room until I got highI was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high

Sadly, I don't even have that excuse.

I mean, I have a bunch of topics right
here, in my lazy head. Just need to find the motivation, somehow. It got lost somewhere
between all the air planes, suitcases and hot weather.

Anyway. Today, I wanted to tell you about my trip to Ilisu,
in Azerbaijan.

You see, I had to admit something to myself this summer. Deep
inside, without a doubt, despite all the shit that is still going on there; I
still love my country. Shocking, I know.

Like a prodigal son, I returned again, mentally apologising
for all the…hmm... unkind thoughts I had about my homeland before.

Look, I thought, as
we sat outside the little cottage in Illisu, surrounded by stunning mountains,
look how beautiful it is! Just amazing! Never mind that I could not sleep at all on the train, convinced it was about to fly off the rails, killing us all. Somehow, I felt better staying awake for that. And never mind that the first cottage we
were shown to in this little family owned resort, with its two tiny dark rooms with narrow single beds reminded me,
disturbingly, of an episode of 'Orange Is The New Black' (without the lesbians).
And never mind that behind the cottage, there was a wild, I mean, proper wild
forest, with noises at night, with mean, hungry bears plotting how to get in and eat my children. You see, nature and me are like two people who, although find each other attractive, could never live together, knowing that it would just not work, and would end up badly, with one of
us killing the other. I do realise that I could never live so close to it, yet I still can appreciate its beauty.

How come, I
thought, I never really saw all this before? I spent years living there,
focusing on the negative parts, complaining, just like all the locals still do,
about the prices, the corruption, the summer heat and the pollution. But now,
living away from you, Azerbaijan, I can really see how charming you are, in
your wonderful, quirky way.

I enjoyed all the little things. Watching the locals dance
Azeri dances to terrible YouTube videos on a big screen, in an outdoor
terrace every night after dinner; the owner, in his woolly hat at 30+
degrees, in his seventies, dragging all of us out to the dance floor.

The young locals riding horses bareback, on the old bridge, a
foal running after them.

A stranger stopping his Lada to give us a lift back to our
resort (as we walked slowly back from the restaurant, in the dark, tummies full
of lamb kebabs) refusing to take any money for it.

Sitting on my little balcony at the front of the cottage at
night, seeing something alive in the dark on the alley, running bravely to
check what it was, discovering was a hedgehog, getting amazed at how cute
it was and then noticing a dying, twitching mouse hanging from its mouth...

Discovering hiking! Discovering I was good at it! Except for, you know, all that forest around. The friendly neighbours from the resort were
determined to climb all the way up, thinking it was funny that I thought bears
were right there, waiting for us, patiently. Ha ha, they said, you are funny.
No bears are sitting there, waiting! Yeah, I said, have you not seen 'The Revenant'??? They went quiet and we turned
back.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip.

How foolish was I in my younger days, really, when I had no interest in exploring my own country? And
now, feeling more foreign there than anywhere else, I enjoy every visit, every minute of it.

Look, my mother pointed to the mountain right in front of us
one morning, as we sat on the terrace sipping one of the tastiest cups of chai
I had ever tasted, you see the cave up there? That’s where they say some local
criminals used to hide years ago.

My mind, inspired by all the fresh air and the green
mountains, quickly formed an escape plan. Maybe, one day, I will drop out and hide
in that cave, all the way up the mountain. I will eat
berries and drink from waterfalls. Nobody can find me there. Nobody but the bears. OK, maybe not.

Baku- Old City

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About Me

Foreign here, foreign there...foreign everywhere.
Born in Baku, Azerbaijan, I then spent 12 years in a wonderful commuter village near London, and recently decided to try an expat lifestyle and relocated to sunny Doha.
Besides this blog, I run a regular culture clash column in AZ Magazine in Baku, Azerbaijan, and freelance for whoever pays me.